Everard said: “But perhaps I would not wish you to be different from what you are.”
Her laughter echoed round them.
“Then, my sweet Everard, that will be very easy, very easy indeed.”
They had been gone a long time, and when they were back in the ballroom, curious glances were cast in their direction. Their flushed faces told their own story. Women smiled behind their fans; men’s eyes lighted up with amusement. Mrs. Orland’s face was blank with disapproval and disbelief. The squire’s was black as thunder. When he was in a rage he had no thought for the proprieties; he went across the ballroom to Carolan, and spoke to her in a voice which several people standing round him heard. Mrs. Orland drew Everard aside.
“You will go to your room at once,” said the squire.
“I will have an explanation of this disgusting behaviour.”
Carolan’s green eyes opened very wide.
“Oh, but..”
The squire lowered his voice slightly, but the fury in it was unmistakable.
“Go at once,” he said, ‘or I will take you.”
“I do not understand,” said Carolan.
“The ball is not over yet, and it is my first ball and I…”
“Evidently,” said the squire, ‘you have to learn how to behave, before you go to a ball. You behave like a kitchen girl. Get up to your room at once!”
She stared at the blue veins standing out on his forehead. And then Everard turned from his mother.
“Allow me to explain, Squire.” he said.
“It was entirely due to me…”
“Allow me to look after my own family, sir!” retorted the squire with murder in his eyes. Mrs. Orland, who above all things, dreaded gossip, plucked Everard’s sleeve.
“Everard, come with me quickly. The squire knows best where his daughter is concerned.”
Eyes were watching. The music was playing; couples watched as they danced: their eyes were full of amusement and speculation. The naughty little girl and the parson’s son! It was rather a good joke.
If you do not go to your room this minute,” said the squire between his teeth, “I will tear that contraption of lace and ribbons off you, and lay about you with my own hands here and now. I mean it, Madam. I repeat, go to your room.” Mrs. Orland’s eyes were pleading; Everard was undecided.
“I am going,” said Carolan, and the anger of the squire could not quell the happiness in her.
She went to her room. So this was the end of her first ball! She looked at herself in the mirror. Changed, she was grown up. She loved, and was loved; that had put colour into her eyes, a radiance on her face. Everard … wonderful, beautiful, clever, kind, good Everard loved her and they would be married. I will be so good, she thought, so good. She had almost forgotten her undignified retreat from the ballroom; she had almost forgotten the anger of the squire, until she heard his step outside her door. He burst in angrily, so that the door crashed against the side of the wall.
“Ah.” he said.
“Preening in front of the glass, eh?” And never, never in all her life at Haredon, had she seen him so angry. He shut the door behind him, and leaned against it, breathing heavily.
“Well?” he said.
“You absented yourself from the ballroom with that mollycoddle for nigh on two hours. What were you doing all that time?”
He came towards her threateningly.
“You had better tell me the truth!” he added. And his eyes rested on her bare shoulders, as though, she thought, he were seeing weals leaping up there as he applied the whip.
But happiness gave her courage, and even now she could not think of him so much as the sudden roughness in Everard’s voice, and the sudden quiver in his lips as they touched hers. This was nothing. Soon she would be Everard’s wife and out of reach of this brute whom she had tried to love and whom, she knew now. she had always hated and feared.
“I will tell you the truth!” she cried out. There is no need to hide it. Soon I shall be gone from here. Soon you will have no right to order me about as you did just now. I hate you for that… in front of them all. Everard and I are going to be married …”
“What!” His laughter was horrible.
“A chit of a girl, and without my consent! Ah! That is what he told you, eh?” He put his face close to hers, in that crude way he had.
“That is an old trick, my girl…” Horrible words came to his lips; he was saying foul things about her and Everard, and parsons and foolish girls. He was ugly, hateful, satanic. She flew at him suddenly, and struck him across his face. He roared with laughter, but not healthy laughter. He reached for her, but she was quick and agile; she had the bed between them.
“Oh,” she cried, panting, ‘what a wicked man you are! I always knew you were. None but the wicked could think such thoughts of Everard. You lie! I wonder your lies do not choke you. How I wish they would! How I should laugh! I hate you … I always have hated you. I hate you when you kiss me. There is something horrible about you …”
He interrupted her: “Girl! You forget yourself. Do you realize that you owe everything to me ?”
“To you I” “Yes,” he retorted, and his face was so full of blood that she thought it would burst, ‘to me! But for me you would have been born in the workhouse. You do not know your father. You were born ungrateful… you were born a harlot! I have brought you up as a lady, in comfort; I have given you all you could desire …” His voice broke with self-pity, but Carolan had no pity for him; she was as violent in hate as she was in love. And how she hated him for saying what he had just said about Everard!
“All I could desire!” she said.
“You! Do you think I forget how you treated me the night my mother went away!”
“You forget all I have given you. Was not that very dress you are wearing a present from me? You kissed me for it; it was cheap, was it not? Such a dress, and all for a kiss.”
“I wish I had never had it.”
He was trembling now. She was no longer a child he saw that, and he could have wept for it. He was losing her as surely as he had lost Bess and Kitty. Why did he always lose? He had tried so hard … first with one, then with the others.
“What happened in the summerhouse? Tell me that!” His voice was calmer now. He hoped he sounded like a father, anxious for his daughter.
“Everard asked me to marry him. and I said I would.”
“You… marry him! My dear child, he is going to marry Margaret.”
“How can that be, and he know nothing of it!”
“It has been arranged between our families for a long time.”
“He will not. He loves me.”
“Listen, Carrie, God knows I am fond of you … Carrie, you have no doubt of that, have you?”
She was silent.
“Carrie …” He began to move slowly towards her, but as she edged away he stopped.
“If you were, could you have behaved as you did tonight?” she demanded.
“Yes,” he said, ‘for that very reason. I thought he had taken you out there … You know what I thought and you no more than a child! I was angry with him and angry with you. I have been a father to you, Carrie. Do you not appreciate that?”
She wished he would not talk as though he were weeping. She wanted to be angry with him, and she could not.
“A father to you, Carrie,” he went on.
“Anxious for you, wanting the best for you. I do not think he would offer marriage; indeed I do not see how he can. It is known, my dear, that you are not my daughter; none knows who your father is. Your mother deceived me. It would not be well for a parson to marry you, Carrie. And he is all but affianced to Margaret.”
“Nothing will stand in our way,” said Carolan.
The squire murmured: “We must be calm, Carrie. We must talk of this. I must see Parson Orland. Dammed, I do not know; I do not know, I am sure.”